


Haven

by RedwoodRRoad



Category: Glee
Genre: Glee AU, M/M, Man would you get a look at those official character tags, Musician Blaine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedwoodRRoad/pseuds/RedwoodRRoad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson is the lead of a popular cover band. When the band wants to start coming out with original music, Blaine is left to write it himself, due to being the only member willing and possibly able to write music. He spends much of his thinking time in a small coffee shop in which a particular barista gives him all the inspiration he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have another AU the love of my life gave me--this time with those Warbler boys we all miss, and it's finally a fic of mine that isn't predominantly in Kurt's perspective. It's definitely going to be multiple chapters, and I'm going to try to keep them under 3,000 words in each only because I feel as though I've paced it well enough in this way. I honestly can't tell whether it might be too short, but I think it'll work. Enjoy!

Blaine sat calmly in the coffee shop, his eyes intently scouring the music sheet in front of him as he sipped a coffee. He made a face upon reaching a part in the music that he could not mentally recognize and flipped his pencil around to erase the note and replace it with a slightly altered note. His eyes trailed across the page as the melody sang in his head, and a few select words echoed along with it. He scribbled down a phrase next to the notes and sang it in his head again, bobbing to catch the backbeat he imagined.

“Can I fill this up for you?”

Blaine shook his head out of the musical trance and looked up to find a smiling, beautifully-familiar face watch him inquisitively. Smiling back, Blaine let his pen touch down onto the table before replying, “Yes, please.”

Kurt smiled wider and held down the mug as he tipped the coffee pot over the rim. Blaine watched him stare down at the slowly-filling cup; watched his eyes try not to trail too long over the music sheets on the table; watched the excitement flare in his eyes and lift his chest before watching the man recognize that excitement and forcibly stifle it and focus on the coffee again. Once he finished, he tipped back the pot and gently pushed the cup towards Blaine a little, smiling at Blaine again.

“Do you want more cream or sugar or anything?” Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded and put his fingers up to signify “a little”, gathering a few short nods from the smiling man before turning around and heading back to the bar. Blaine watched the gorgeous man tend to other customers as he walked off, smiling to himself at how _impossibly_ pretty he looked in the barista hat and the ascot tied around his neck.

Just like that, a thousand phrases and melodies crashed into his brain, making him blink and bob his head back as he tried to sort through it all. Immediately, he began to write it all down, scribbling small inflection notes so that he could transcribe it into actual notes later. He hummed some things to himself as he filtered through more and more lines of a miscellaneous song he hasn’t written yet, tapping the palm of his hand with that hand’s fingers as if playing notes to go along with it. By the time he had finished writing it all down, Kurt was back at his table, and Blaine could just barely hear him breathe, “Wow,” as if marveling at just how many phrases were suddenly apparent on the paper.

Blaine leaned back and looked up at Kurt, giving him a grin. Kurt looked down at him with a flustered look before scrambling to hold the creamer over Blaine’s coffee. Blaine could see the attempt not to read those little phrases, and part of him wanted to let Kurt pour over his horrible writing, but he also did not want to make Kurt feel uncomfortable or make him feel like he had to give him good feedback: or any at all.

“Thank you,” Blaine eventually said as Kurt finished with the creamer. Kurt put his hand out, and Blaine could tell he was a bit speechless. Part of him thought it was incredibly cute.

Kurt licked his lips. “You’re welcome,” he eventually said, “If you need anything else, I’ll be walking around or behind the counter. Just look for me and wave.”

Blaine nodded. “Okay,” he replied softly. He gave Kurt another smile before Kurt turned and walked back towards the bar. Blaine tried not to sigh too loudly as he watched the _beautiful_ man leave him. Stopping himself from staring, he went back to his music as he reached for the coffee. As he brought it to his face, he blinked when something white-ish caught his eyes. He looked down and brought the cup away from his face to peer at the intricate design in the liquid. He frowned a little, not quite grasping the shape, but it definitely _looked_ like it should be recognizable. Turning the mug and tilting his head, he slowly began to come to a realization that it sort of, just barely, looked like a flying bird on its side.

 

A similarly-shaped, actually well-drawn black bird sat in the middle of an album cover in a room full of duplicates, most of them in boxes with shipping labels on the side. A pair of men entered the room, the first of which scratching his head.

“Did they really run out so fast though?” he asked the other without turning.

The blonde sighed. “That’s what Wes said, man,” he replied, similarly confused.

“I think it’s a mistake,” the other continued, moving to an unlabeled box and prying the flaps open. “There’s no way the store wants 30 copies, Jeff, we can hardly sell _fifteen_ at most bookstores.”

Jeff Sterling shrugged with wide eyes pointed to a wall. “I mean, if they’re gonna pay for 30 copies, then it doesn’t really matter, right?”

Nick Duval looked up at the ceiling, considering. “Good point.”

Finally having the box wide open, Nick shoved his hands into the box and blindly began to count the CDs. Behind him, Jeff put his hands on his hips and toed one of the album stacks next to a box. “I think it’s just cool that people are actually buying albums. It means we’re getting more popular, right?”

“Yeah, as a _cover band_ ,” Nick threw back, pulling out a small stack and putting it on the floor next to him. “We should be doing more, man; more than covers.”

“Well, Blaine’s working on that, right?” Jeff asked.

Nick made a noise as he lolled his head to the side. “That’s what he says.”

“You don’t believe him?”

Nick grunted as he shoved his arm back into the deep box. “I believe that _he_ believes he’s writing music.” Jeff frowned at the ceiling, not quite clear on Nick’s meaning. Somehow noticing Jeff’s confusion, Nick craned his neck over his shoulder. “Whether or not it’s _good_ music is what worries me.”

Jeff frowned harder, looking to his squatted friend as Nick pulled out another stack. “But we won’t know if it’s good music until we publish it. Wouldn’t that be, like a… A Catch-Twenty-Two?”

“Right,” Nick continued, squinting at the ceiling as he paused with his arm in the box again. After a moment, he continued, “I just don’t want to jump immediately into something different and expect to do well, but I don’t want to keep doing what we’re doing forever. It’s like we’re in this—” He grunted as he adjusted his arms in the box. “— _rut,_ you know?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replied softly, crossing his arms and dropping his eyes to toe the stack on the floor next to him again.

Behind him, someone stepped up to the room and leaned on the doorway. “What are you guys doing?” he asked.

Jeff turned and smiled at his friend. “Hey, David,” he greeted.

Nick looked over his shoulder as he pulled out the third stack. “Hey, man, did you hear about the shipment request?”

Frowning, David Thompson shook his head. “No, what is it?”

“30 copies,” Nick answered, recounting his three stacks.

Eyes wide, David’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Jeff laughed, nodding at David with a grin.

“Wow,” David breathed.

Nick finally stood up as he looked around the room. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Jeff thinks it’s fine, but I really just want to get original stuff on the market.”

“But you just said you don’t want to take a risk like that,” Jeff pointed out.

Nick shrugged. “I don’t, I guess. Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

David raised his eyebrows and dropped his gaze. “Well, I think for now it’s great. As long as we get our name out there, can we really complain?”

Still obviously unconvinced, Nick flapped his arms out in defeat. “Whatever. It’s fine. You’re right.”

Jeff and David exchanged looks, but David shrugged. Nick began hauling the small stacks into another, better-fitting box.

Eventually, Jeff inhaled. “I think we’ll get original stuff out soon,” he said hopefully.

As Nick finished putting the albums in the box, he stood up and stretched his back. He squatted down again to haul up the box in his arms. Turning, he started towards the doorway and nodded to the other two guys, silently asking them to move to the side as he stepped through.

“What store is it?” David asked Jeff.

Shrugging, Jeff met David’s eyes as they both started following Nick into the next room. “Just some bookstore in the upper east.”

“I guess rich white people like boy bands that cover music they grew up with,” Nick called back to them. David laughed, throwing his head back as he clapped.

Jeff let out a laugh as he plopped into a chair. “At least it works,” he joked back.

Then, the front door staggered open as Blaine stumbled in, a notebook falling quickly apart practically slipping out of his gloved hand. The other guys watched him as he edged around the door and kicked it closed, attempting to hold all the paper within the notebook from falling all over the floor. Finally managing to keep it in one piece, Blaine looked up with squared legs and doe eyes and gave his friends a crooked grin.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted happily. All at once, his notebook fell out from his hands and splatted on the floor as Blaine snapped his eyes down as it collided with the floor and scattered in pieces.

 

A few nights later, Kurt is swaying slowly to nameless music by a nameless band while Mercedes Jones holds his hand and sways with him. He’s looking over his shoulder as if waiting for something to happen, but he can’t hardly be nervous in this setting: this underground club is serene in décor and comfortable in atmosphere, and there aren’t many people around. It feels safe. It feels snug. It feels like some kind of—

“Special guest Haven is here tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” the lady coordinator announces as the house music wanes off. Kurt and Mercedes turn, and Kurt feels his heart thud with familiarity as goosebumps trail down his arms. He knew they would be performing tonight, and even if it’s more cover music, he’s happy to support the band he’s been fond of since the beginning.

The band steps up onto the stage, and Kurt tries to recognize each of them even if it’s rather hard to see them with the stage lights pointing in odd directions. The skinny blonde, Jeff, runs up first with his electric guitar, waving at the crowd. Nick follows him and seems to chastise him before stepping behind the drum set. David comes up next with the bass half behind him, grinning at the two other guys with those bright teeth. Finally, the lights dim a little and focus a little better, and Kurt tries not to sigh too loudly when he sees Blaine Anderson take his position at the front microphone, his hands curling around the mic stand in different places to adjust it. Kurt watched those hands and bit his lip, forcing himself to keep his mind clean of any images that could arise from watching that man twist his hands around something cylindrical in that fashion. Next to him, Mercedes nudged his arm and gave him an excited smile. He smiled back, eyes wide with equal excitement.

The song started slow, and it was different from the original beat, but Kurt immediately recognized it. He watched Blaine curl his hands around the mic and practically whisper the lyrics into Kurt’s ears, and Kurt could only hold onto Mercedes’s hand to keep from dropping to the floor from how lovely that voice is. Kurt’s eyes dragged up to watch Blaine’s face as he sang, and all of a sudden, Kurt could have sworn that time slowed to a stop as Blaine’s eyes opened and directly met his. All his breath left him at once as those honey-colored eyes, matched with the warm, milky voice echoing seemingly to him alone, connected with his own eyes. Kurt felt the gasp shudder through his throat and make him fall back into a normal flow of time. Looking around a bit, Kurt blinked, immediately remembering where he was. His eyes floated back to Blaine to catch him grin at another section of the audience of whom began reaching up for him.

Kurt sighed again as Mercedes grabbed his attention and allowed him to direct his thoughts to her and the dancing again.

 

 

Once again, Blaine sat calmly in the coffee shop he loved. Across from him, Wes Montgomery was thoughtfully writing out a list of items on a notepad. Blaine himself scoured his mind for inspiration on another song to start writing, though the writing bug was annoyingly absent from his head. He put his pencil down and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. Wes looked up and watched Blaine for a moment.

“You alright, Blaine?” he asked.

Blaine grunted and nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he replied, dropping his hands as he sighed.

Wes crossed his legs and put a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “It’s tough writing music, huh?” Nodding slowly, Blaine smiled grimly and kept his eyes on the blank music sheet. Wes sighed. “I wish I could help. I honestly don’t even know how you managed to write so much for that other song.” Then, with furrowed eyebrows, “How’s that one going, actually? Did you finish it?”

Blaine shook his head. “Nope. I’m putting that one aside while I actually have inspiration for it.”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “Well, whatever you think works,” he said dismissively, “I just hope you don’t lose inspiration for something you’ve gotten pretty far on.” Sighing again, Blaine knew Wes was right. “Actually,” Wes continued, “Where did you get the inspiration for that one? It practically came out of nowhere.”

Before he could give an answer, someone was approaching their table.

“Hi, boys,” Kurt greeted, handing them both napkins and putting down a pair of paper menus. “Do you guys want anything this morning?”

Blaine smiled up at the man and took in his outfit of the day: Pale blue turtleneck sweater and dark pants. A small animal pin sat on the front of his apron. Simple. Blaine loved it.

“I’ll have a coffee,” Wes started with a smile.

Kurt nodded and reached behind himself to adjust his pants at the hem. “Do you want milk or anything?”

“Sure, just a little.”

Kurt affirmed with a nod before turning to Blaine. Blaine watched his mouth flick up at the corners a little higher. “Would you like anything?”

Blaine watched Kurt for another moment before adjusting his sitting position and replying, “Can I have the usual?”

“Medium drip?” Kurt asked, turning his head to the side playfully.

Blaine smiled wider. “Yep, that’s it.”

“Changing it up on me,” Kurt threw back with a smirk. “Last time you just wanted a regular coffee,” he reminded.

Blaine nodded and chuckled, tipping his head down to temper the blush rising quickly over his face. After a second, he looked up again with a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Gotta keep you on your toes, you know?”

Kurt hummed out a laugh as he nodded and turned around to head back to the bar. Blaine watched him go with a warm feeling settling in his chest.

“You are,” Wes said across from him, “incredibly obvious.” Blaine turned his head to give Wes a confused look. Wes was giving him a smirk. “Also, I think I know _exactly_ where you got that inspiration from.”

Blaine laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Whatever,” Blaine whispered semi-defensively. Wes chuckled and went back to writing, and Blaine mirrored the motion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a touch longer than the last, but I went a bit over the limit I set for myself for the sake of character bonding. I hope you enjoy!

Over a week later, Blaine was abruptly woken in his own bed at the sound of a heavy crash. He sat up slowly, half-thinking it was just a part of his dream, but as he began to stretch on the side of the bed, he jerked when another noise sounded from downstairs. Blaine shot off the bed and raced down the stairs, swinging around the railing as he darted his eyes around the living room.

Right there in the living room, Nick was tearing up a cardboard box and kicking out another with his foot. Blaine frowned at the sight, catching sight of Jeff turning to give him a sympathetic look. “What the hell’s going on?” Blaine asked. Behind him, someone was coming down the stairs heavily.

“Nick’s losing it,” David yawned as he leaned on the railing behind Blaine.

“I’m not _fuckin’_ losing it, man,” Nick snapped, throwing down the remains of the box in his hands, “I’m _pissed off_ that _you_ —“ He pointed at Blaine, making Blaine flinch a little and widen his eyes. “—Haven’t been writing freaking anything, and you said you would start writing _two months ago!”_

Blaine’s mouth fell open as he furrowed his eyebrows. “I… Writing is hard, Nick, it’s tough to get inspiration to write music that hasn’t already been written.”

“Is that _really_ your excuse?” Nick demanded angrily, “Do you know how many bands have the same music? It doesn’t matter to people if our stuff sounds like other bands! As long as it’s catchy, we can get popular and actually make money--make a _living,_ Blaine.”

“We’re making money,” Jeff cut in softly.

“We’re breaking _even_ , Jeff,” Nick threw back harshly, glaring at him, “It’s different. We’ve been doing this for almost two years now, and we’re still living in the same, _shitty_ townhouse we started in. We have three cover albums, and we’re lucky to sell 50 in a _month._ ”

“What about last week when we sold 30 to that bookstore?” David asked with a frown.

Nick threw his eyes to the ceiling and threw his hand up. Pursing his lips, he pointed with his hand to David. “ _Luck,_ man. Have they even sold five of that 30 in the last week?” The others stayed silent, unsure, but definitely assuming the store hadn’t. “Exactly. We’re wasting money making albums that don’t sell, and stores are wasting money on a _band_ that doesn’t sell.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Blaine said softly.

“ _Is it,_ Blaine?” Nick barked, “Or is it just the _freaking_ truth, and you don’t like it?” Blaine swallowed, hurt. Nick stomped toward him and pointed in his face. “You better get your _shit_ together, man, or I’m out. I can’t [waste my life waiting for you to make us an actual band.”] With that, he flicked his eyes between Blaine’s before turning, grabbing his coat, and storming out the front door.

Inhaling slowly through his nose, Blaine felt partly-hurt by his friend’s words, and partly frustrated that neither of his other friends felt the need to cut Nick off in any way or possibly defend him.

“Blaine,” David started.

“No,” Blaine cut him off, feeling the frustration bubble up and mix with exhaustion as he backed up from the railing and moved past David to head back up the stairs. “No, forget it. Don’t even bother.”

David watched him go and exhaled as he turned back to Jeff. Jeff looked just as defeated as he dropped his eyes.

Upstairs, Blaine brushed his teeth as he stumbled into a pair of pants. Once he finished washing up, he threw a different shirt and a jacket on, grabbed his guitar and notebook, and stomped into a pair of shoes before leaving again. As he got down the stairs, David tried to step in front of him.

“Hey, man, listen,” he tried to start, but Blaine gave him a tired look with a shake of his head.

“I’m just going out. I’ll be back tonight,” he promised. Before David could say anything, Blaine pushed past him and left the house.

 

Forty minutes later, Blaine was sitting with his back against the stone wall under a store window. He strummed absently at his guitar and grinned at people who recognized him. When he came to a good chord or set of notes, he quickly turned to his notebook and wrote the notes down on a haphazard drawing of a staff. It was something like a cycle, and he even received some compliments from passersby: whether they recognized him or not. About ten minutes later, someone came out of the store and approached him. Expecting the worst, Blaine sighed and started getting up.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’ll move if you don’t want me here,” he started, but as he looked up, he felt his breath leave him when familiar blue eyes were wide with retroactive sympathy.

“Oh! No, no, that’s not what I was going to say,” Kurt immediately said, waving his hands in front of him. “No, I just--I was talking to my manager, and I asked her if it would be okay to invite you and let you practice or whatever inside, where it’s warm.” Blaine raised his eyebrows and stood up a little straighter. “We don’t have a lot of people in today, so you can sit sort of in the back and work on your music. I think most people won’t mind anyway.”

Blaine was rendered speechless. He stared at Kurt for a long moment but eventually let himself smile and nod in agreement. “Thank you… _so_ much, Kurt,” he said softly, “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Kurt smiled and waved toward himself as he turned around. Blaine scrambled to put his notebook together as he quickly followed Kurt inside. Holding the door for him, Kurt happily let him in before leading him to the back of the seating area and giving him a wide place to sit with his guitar.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Kurt asked over an hour later, his arm on the back of the small couch as he frowned down at Blaine.

Having retired his guitar well before now, Blaine had his head in his hands with his knees on either side of the small table in front of him. Music sheets sat on the table, some scrawled with notes to their fullest capacity, and others touched with sparse words and phrases. Grunting, Blaine picked his head up and sighed.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Blaine affirmed.

Still unconvinced, Kurt sighed and dismissed it. “Well, I’m off the clock now, so I have to get going,” he told him sadly.

Blaine thought about the statement and looked up at the clock. “It’s only 4.” Turning to Kurt, he frowned up at him. “Do you always get off this early?”

“On Thursdays,” Kurt replied, untying the apron behind himself. “Every other day except Friday, I get off at 7.”

“Fridays you don’t work at all,” Blaine reminded himself, slightly under his breath.

“That’s right,” Kurt confirmed, giving Blaine a smile as he pulled the apron over his head. “How nice of you to remember.”

Blaine felt the response leave his lips before his brain could stop it: “Well, if you and the coffee are the only reasons I come to this shop, then I’m probably not gonna come here when you’re not around.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open, flustered and blushing as Blaine’s fearful thoughts rushed around in his head. Closing his mouth suddenly, he looked away and seemed to mentally fumble for an answer, but as he looked to Blaine again, he replied softly, “I’m glad I’m a good enough reason for you to come back.”

Blaine watched Kurt turn with a bashful face and leave his side with the apron draped over one arm.

Thursdays, Blaine noted, would be the days he’ll have to really keep in mind. Just for reference.

 

Blaine felt it would be good to avoid Nick for a little while. Nick was probably ignoring him to some degree as well, and as long as he did, Blaine figured he didn’t feel the need to apologize for some of the things he had said. Things were weird among himself, Jeff, and David as well, and while Blaine decided not to avoid them, he still had a feeling of distrust towards them. They still talked at the house, but the tension was thick amongst them. With that feeling hanging in the air, as well as possible awkwardness the boys felt themselves, it was as if there was a rift quickly forming between Blaine and the rest of his band.

Wes was the only one from whom he didn’t feel completely excommunicated. They had coffee almost every day, just a bit more often than usual, and it was always in Blaine’s favorite coffee shop.

Kurt, as always, was the sweetest, most understanding person even for knowing nearly nothing about the situation.

“He’s just so empathetic,” Blaine mused one morning, watching Kurt walk away after dropping off their coffees.

“Why didn’t you tell him everything happened?” Wes asked after Blaine told him how much he _did_ tell Kurt, furrowing his eyebrows.

Blaine sighed and rolled his shoulders as he adjusted his sitting position to face Wes. “I don’t want to make a big public deal about it. Journalists are already asking me a thousand questions about why we haven’t been performing lately; why I’ve been hanging out here so often. Even now, dude,” Blaine pointed out, turning his head to nod towards a table across the shop that had a handful of fidgety people with notepads and hand cameras sitting at it. “We’ve got people around here who have been following me around for the past three days.”

“At least it’s bringing the place business,” Wes commented, taking a drink as he, out of the corner of his eye, watched another barista bring a few drinks to the journalists.

“I guess,” Blaine replied, looking back to Wes. “It’s just the weirdest thing. I wasn’t ever followed like this before. I don’t think any of us were.”

Wes nodded and hummed as he swallowed his sip. “That,” he answered knowingly, “is because they know something’s wrong.” He met Blaine’s eyes. “People notice that you guys aren’t performing. More than that, they notice that you aren’t hanging out like normal. Journalists tap into that and try to find out why.”

“But why is that interesting to people?” Blaine asked with a frown.

Wes shrugged. “People like problems. They like knowing the details about famous people and their lives: _especially_ band members. Everything is boring until drama happens, and when it does—because people will _always_ find something to drag drama out from—journalists and the like will scope it out and give people the information they think they need.”

Blaine nodded, frowning at the table, though he eventually asked, “So… But I haven’t seen anything in the news about… _it_ , you know?”

Wes hummed again as he took another sip. “Actually,” he said, opening the folded set of papers he had with him and turning them to face Blaine, “You’d be surprised how far along they are.”

Flicking his eyes between Wes’s with slight confusion, Blaine paused before pulling the sheets of paper to himself and looking over it. “What is it?” he asked, half-reading what looked like a printed out digital news article.

“It’s a pre-print for the next issue of a small magazine company,” Wes informed, tapping the paper with his finger, “This is a piece that’s going out in tomorrow’s installment, and it’s all about Haven.”

Blaine marveled at the words on the page, skimming over the short paragraphs introducing the band and swallowing nervously at the mentions of internal band issues. He whispered a worried “Wow,” when the author suggested the possibility of a separation. “This is… kind of scary, actually,” Blaine said, skimming over some parts again.

“Yeah,” Wes agreed, “It’s just some things you’re gonna have to get used to.” Blaine looked up. Wes had a grave look on his face. “This is the lifestyle you chose, Blaine. It’s the lifestyle we all chose.” He inhaled, looking down at the article again. “This is the kind of stuff we’re all going to have to deal with.”

Blaine bit the inside of his cheek. He felt something like bile rise up in his throat, and he couldn’t possibly touch his coffee now. Turning his head, he looked over to the bar and caught sight of Kurt talking to another customer. Blaine took a breath before turning to Wes and getting up. “I’ll be right back,” he told him. Wes nodded and smiled supportively as he began to take another sip. Blaine put his chair in and headed towards the bar, just as the other customer started to leave.

Cleaning the counter, Kurt didn’t notice Blaine until he came up to the counter and leaned on it on his elbows.

“Hey, you,” Kurt greeted, putting his hand on his hip and leaning on his hand as he smiled at Blaine.

Immediately feeling a little better, Blaine smiled back. “Hey yourself,” he said softly, “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Kurt replied, returning to the cleaning to edge into a tough spot. “Did you need something?”

“Just saying ‘hi’,” Blaine said. Kurt looked up and gave him a concerned smile.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asked, keeping his eyes on Blaine.

Inhaling deeply, Blaine looked down, lacing his fingers together and sweeping his thumbs off each other. “Yeah, I just…” He blinked a few times. Kurt stopped cleaning and focused on Blaine more fully. “… Some things are happening in the band, and it’s starting to come out in the open. Journalists and reporters are eating it up like sharks, and I just didn’t expect something like this to blow out of the water so quickly.”

There was a bit of a pause, but when Kurt shifted his weight, he eventually said, “Well, it’s not like it’s something illegal, right?”

Blaine frowned before looking up again. “What do you mean?”

Kurt licked his lips and put his hands together on the counter. “I… I mean, you told me about some of the weird tension you’ve been feeling with them, but that isn’t, I guess, the product of someone doing something illegal, right?”

Blinking, Blaine swallowed. “No. No, not at all.”

Kurt widened his eyes and bobbed his head in understanding. “Then it can’t be that bad, right?” Blaine blinked again. Immediately, Kurt became flustered as he met Blaine’s eyes, waving his hands in the air. “I mean—That’s not to say that you shouldn’t be worrying about it! Obviously it’s your life, so you have every right to be… nervous or upset or… or anything you’re feeling, and I know _I_ would if it was my life, but…” Dropping his hands, Kurt sighed. “I guess it’s just… Not the end of the world. More than that, your…” He swallowed, retracting that thought with a shake of his head as he straightened up and gave Blaine a level set of eyes. “You are the only person who can control your life. Journalists and fans and…” He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “And _whoever_ else—they don’t control your life, and they definitely don’t control your career. You’re going to figure out, with your bandmates, how to handle whatever situation came up. Maybe it’s a big deal that needs a lot of time away from each other to figure out, or maybe it’s something that just requires everyone to _put their pride away_ and just put it in the past.”

Blaine was speechless. During the short pause, he watched Kurt with a dumbfounded gaze, taking his words like gospel.

“Regardless of what journalists are going to say,” Kurt continued with bright, wise eyes, “it’s not going to touch what you guys have. You’ve been together for so long already, working for this and getting to a place where you can _be_ reasonably famous,” he reminded, chuckling softly, “that I’m sure you’ll be able to come back from this.” Then, leaning over the counter a bit and whispering softer, “And another thing: Some silly little journalists aren’t going to destroy what you have either. You control your own destiny, the four of you.” Kurt smiled sweetly, flicking his eyes between Blaine’s. “Don’t let it worry you. Live your life, work at your pace, be happy with your friends, and everything else will fall into place.” Kurt’s hand slid over the counter and gently cupped over Blaine’s, his thumb slowly rubbing Blaine’s fingers. He blinked and smiled a little wider. “Everything’s going to be okay. I know it will.”

A wave of emotions rushed over Blaine, rendering him speechless still as he awed at Kurt silently. The most he could do was open his mouth and hope that words can form in any coherent pattern. Eventually, he remembered how to move his muscles, so he licked his lips and began to smile just slightly. “Thank you, Kurt,” he croaked, turning his hand under Kurt’s to hold his back.

Nodding, Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand. “I’ll always be here to help,” he promised. Looking down, he widened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Even though I’m constantly torn between that feeling and constantly freaking out because my favorite band’s lead singer frequents my coffee shop—not to _mention_ , he’s holding my hand right now…”

Blaine laughed softly and dropped his head. Lifting it, he gave Kurt an apologetic look. “Is this weird? I can leave now if you want.”

Kurt giggled and covered his face with his free hand. “I… I might actually die from embarrassment, but it’s fine.” He peeked out from between his fingers. “I can put my fan-boy feelings away to help someone I, uhh, admire…”

Grinning finally, Blaine rubbed Kurt’s hand gently between both of his. “Oh, jeeze. That is _very_ flattering, Kurt. You really admire me?” he asked, tilting his head.

Kurt groaned softly and turned his head away. “Look, I just really like your music and what you stand for; it’s _not_ a big deal.”

Blaine laughed again. “Well, when we finally have original music, I’ll know exactly who I need to impress.”

Scoffing, Kurt dropped his free hand. “Ohh, please, Blaine, you don’t even have to _try_ with me,” he assured, chuckling softly again.

Still grinning, Blaine enjoyed the silence between them for moment as he took a long look at Kurt. After a few seconds, Blaine inhaled and sighed. He looked down at their hands before saying, “I should probably let you go. You’ve probably got a lot to do.”

Humming, Kurt flicked his eyes across the shop. “I guess. It was nice talking to you, though,” he replied, smiling at Blaine again.

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand and let his smile shrink to something more gentle. “It was very nice. Thank you so much for talking to me.”

“Of course! Any time,” Kurt promised.

After another long pause, Blaine slowly began to retract his hand. Bringing his hands to the edge of the counter, Blaine tapped his fingers. “I’ll, uh,” he replied, dropping his eyes, “I’ll see you later.”

Kurt nodded and visibly inhaled deeply. “I’ll see you later, Blaine.”

Looking up again, Blaine gave Kurt a final, appreciative smile before turning and heading back to his table, much more sure of the situation than before.


End file.
